


This Fate Is Ours

by giselleslash



Series: The Linger 'Verse [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Beach Sex, Body Worship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes's Hair, Bucky Barnes's thicc thighs, Fate, Kissing, Love, M/M, Nicknames, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Recovery, Rimming, Soulmates, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Steve Rogers is a handsy bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 07:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16593629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giselleslash/pseuds/giselleslash
Summary: A bit of a continuation of my 'After All, We Linger' universe. Steve and Bucky, post Infinity War, happy and together and in love.





	This Fate Is Ours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kajmere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kajmere/gifts).



> HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO MY DARLING, GORGEOUS KAJMERE!!
> 
> This is just a silly little continuation of the fic I wrote for her last birthday but I had a bit of an idea and it actually made it into words in time for her big day so yayyyy for everyone! 
> 
> (also, it's not beta'ed, so of course all stupid mistakes and errors are my own.)

Steve finds Bucky on the beach, sitting crossed-legged and looking out at the ocean. The sun is setting on the horizon and the sky is a color that Steve couldn’t reproduce if he had a million years worth of time mixing paint. 

He wishes he could.

He’d love to be able to paint Bucky just as he is; calm and serene, set against a fading, perfect day. 

The air is starting to cool with the setting sun but there’s still warmth in it, with just a hint of humidity, like always. Steve likes it that way, it makes Bucky’s hair curl ever so slightly. He can see the curls now, they escape his bun, some flying away from his head on the light breeze, some clinging to the curve of his neck. Steve doesn’t blame them, he wants to kiss them where they curl against Bucky’s skin. Cling with them, and never let go.

The skin that still seems to glow in the remaining light. Steve knows it doesn’t, it’s his own eyes making Bucky into a vision. If he had his old eyes the dusk would be doing its slow work of making him nothing more than a vague shape in the distance. He looks so peaceful, so beautiful Steve wants to make love to him on the beach but the memory of what a disaster it was the one time they’d tried it brings a quiet, soft chuckle of laughter out of this throat. Bucky hears him and turns his head in Steve’s direction, smiles, and turns back to the ocean. 

It was their first week on the island. They were still heady with the freedom and isolation of it all. There wasn’t a second of the day that they could keep their hands off of one another. Steve clung to him so desperately, so tightly, that if Bucky had been a normal man he’d have been covered in scratches and bruises. It wasn’t that Steve wanted to hurt him, but the pain and fear still pounded in his blood. He still saw Bucky disappear into dust in front of him and the pulsating, anxious fear of losing him yet again made Steve rough, made him almost cruel in his desperation. He wanted to dig his fingers into Bucky like claws, talons holding him close, never letting him go.

There was a madness inside of Steve that took a long, long time for him to release. Months and months of quiet and meditation and Bucky’s gentle, steady love. Bucky, who knew what it was to lose himself and to have to fight for his soul. Both of them lost so much more in their long, young lives than any person should have to bear. 

So there they were, in the middle of their first fraught week of freedom, having gone for a swim and still hungry for one another when they collapsed naked on the sand. Steve licking and mouthing Bucky open, fucking him with his tongue, making him sloppy and wet with spit so he could fuck him as hard as he wanted to. Bucky arching and writhing against him, his moans and filthy demands for Steve’s cock filling the air and overwhelming him. His mouth and nose filled with the musky taste and scent of Bucky mixed with the salt of the ocean, the smooth insides of his wet thighs grasped tight in Steve’s hands as he held his legs wide open.

But then.

Then they both seemed to notice at once the grit of the sand that covered their bodies, clung to their wet skin. They tried to brush it away as they kept clinging to one another, kept trying to kiss as strands of Bucky’s wet hair stuck to his cheek and flopped in his mouth. They laughed as they both started spitting out hair and sand from their mouths, their breath still heavy and quick between the laughter. Steve was in the process of brushing sand off of his leg when Bucky picked him up and rolled him onto his back. He was about to sink down between Steve’s thighs and take his cock in his mouth when he backed away and said,

“Yeah. No. This is disgusting. I’m tapping out.”

“What’s disgusting?” Steve had asked, still dumb on horniness and a rock hard cock. “My dick? My dick is gross?”

Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve and waved at his dick. “Yes, it’s gross. It’s covered in sand.”

Steve looked down to see that yes his dick was covered in sand, as were his stomach and thighs and his fucking pubes too. And the more he let the moment sink in and let his brain focus on something other than his boner he realized now that he was sitting on his ass in the sand that said sand had worked its way into very uncomfortable and unnecessary places. 

“No way is that thing going in my mouth,” Bucky said, then shuddered. “Or my ass. Oh my fucking god!”

The look of horror on Steve’s face at the thought must’ve been hilarious because Bucky stopped looking horrified himself and started cracking up. 

“Jesus tapdancing Christ, let’s never try to fuck on the beach again. Ever,” Bucky said. “I’ve got sand up my asscrack for fuck sake.”

“So do I,” Steve wailed dramatically. 

Bucky had run off laughing back toward the water. Steve watched as he flung himself back into the warm blue waves then got up on his own feet. He ran into the water until he could dive in and swim out to Bucky’s side. Before he could even surface he felt two hands slip around his waist and pull him up. 

Steve spit water at Bucky once he surfaced and Bucky shoved him back under. They wrestled one another until they were as breathless as they were on the sand. Steve had reached out to grab Bucky by the wrist and pull him close, pull him into his arms. They kissed slow and sweet and Bucky had whispered in his ear, “I love every fucking inch of you, Steve Rogers. Even the sand in your ass.”

Steve had laughed until he cried and Bucky’s smug, proud face was so achingly beautiful. 

“What’re you laughing about, asshole?”

Bucky’s voice pulls Steve out of his reverie and back to the present. He smiles at the way Bucky makes _‘asshole’_ sound like an endearment. When he settles himself behind Bucky, wraps his arms around his waist, he answers him.

“Our super sexy attempt at fucking on the beach.”

“Jesus,” Bucky draws out on a groan. “I’ve still got sand up my ass.”

Steve chuckles and starts to rub Bucky’s stomach. “My poor baby.”

“Don’t laugh, I was fucking traumatized.”

“Yeah, I could tell that night by the way you bent me over the porch railing and fucked me because you couldn’t make it all the way back into the house.”

The rumble of Bucky’s laugh vibrates through Steve’s hands as he keeps them pressed against Bucky’s stomach, his skin warm, sunbaked. Steve leans in closer to him, leans until his chest is fully against Bucky’s back. He scooches himself forward at the same time he tightens his arms around Bucky’s waist and pulls him back to meet him. He wants to be able to keep pulling, keep tightening his arms until he pulls Bucky inside himself, or he sinks into Bucky, either one. The desire to be inseparable sends a sharp, quick pang through him. He must make a noise because Bucky’s hands are on him, at his wrists and hands, holding on as he leans back into Steve and makes a gentle, quiet humming sound. 

“I know, baby,” he says, voice low and barely discernible above the waves. “I know.”

Steve’s lips press a kiss to the back of Bucky’s neck, and stay there. When his breath ghosts over Bucky’s skin he shivers. 

“I just. I love you so fucking much, Buck. It’s too much to keep inside, y’know. It feels way too big for my body, even now. The size I am, there’s still too much of it, it overwhelms me sometimes. There’s just not enough,” Steve’s voice fades. “I don’t know how —”

He stops talking, he doesn’t know how to finish saying what he started. It pisses him off, when he gets like this, there’s so much, _so much_ , and he wants Bucky to know all of it, but he’s never been good with words. At least not with the ones that mean the most. He can hack up a victory speech, a motivational battlecry, but the words to encapsulate everything he feels for Bucky, the great big fucking beautiful love he has for him? Well those words always seem to take a fucking flying leap when he needs them. 

Thankfully Bucky knows him. Every thought, every feeling, the very scent and taste of him. There’s nothing he’s been able to hide from him. Nothing. 

Bucky slips his fingers through Steve’s, gets a good grip on them so he can lift them and bring Steve’s hand to his mouth. His lips against Steve’s palm makes him sigh. 

“I know,” he repeats.

Steve half huffs, half laughs because he still wants to say everything, everything in the goddamn world to Bucky, but he also knows too that Bucky’s quiet _’I know’_ is also his version of, _’shut the fuck up, Stevie, you’ll hurt yourself.’_

Instead of giving Bucky shit about shutting him up, he presses his lips to the back of his neck again, tastes the salty sweat, breathes in the soft scent of him underneath all of that. Again and again he kisses him until Bucky scrunches up his shoulders, shivers under the onslaught as he lightly laugh and pushes back against Steve. It only makes Steve hold him tighter, smile more as he tucks his chin into the curve of Bucky’s neck. 

“Rogers.” 

Bucky’s voice is low and grumbly, a warning that Steve ignores as he brushes his beard along Bucky’s skin, exactly where he knows it tickles him the most. “Asshole,” Bucky says again fondly as he shoves up with his shoulder to dislodge Steve’s chin and itchy beard. Steve moves back with a quiet laugh and buries his nose in Bucky’s hair at the back of his head instead. 

Steve hands start to roam again across Bucky’s chest, his skin so smooth and familiar. He loves the tautness of Bucky’s stomach, the muscles right beneath his skin. There are a million or more things he loves about Bucky but Steve knows he’s never been above being swayed by a pretty face and physical beauty and Bucky has always been his ideal, his version of perfection. When he was young and baby-faced and whipcord lean at sixteen, when he was handsome and dashing in his army uniform at twenty-five, and now, when he’s roughened and broken and stronger than ever he’s more beautiful than anything Steve’s ever seen in his life. So big and gorgeous that the sight of his thighs can bring Steve to his knees. Thick and solid and looking like he could slam Steve to the ground, goddamn but it gets him every time. 

When it comes to Bucky Steve is fine being fucking shallow. 

He brushes his fingers over Bucky’s nipples, already hard from the growing coolness of the night and the breeze coming off of the ocean. Bucky wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrists, holds on as Steve’s hands keep searching. 

“You’re awfully fucking handsy tonight, Rogers.”

“When am I _not_ handsy?”

“Good question.”

He knows Bucky’s smiling. 

“Hasn’t been a minute of my life when I didn’t want to get my hands on you,” Steve says. 

Bucky turns his head, tries to look back at Steve. 

“The feeling’s mutual, pal.”

“It’s lucky we found each other then.”

Bucky pulls himself out of Steve’s arms so he can turn around and actually look at him, see him. He takes Steve’s face in his hands and holds him still, stares into his eyes.

“It ain’t fucking luck, baby. Who else on this goddamn earth would ever take you on, and who would be fucking stupid enough to love me all of their life? How are the two of us here now after all of these years, all of these fucked up battles? There’s nothing else but us. We’re not luck. We’re fate. We’re goddamn fate.”

And Steve knows it’s true, that there’s never been anything more true in his whole damn life. The two of them are meant to be exactly where they are right now. There’s no question, no doubt. 

He wasn’t made to love anyone but Bucky Barnes. 

And he’ll spend every second of the rest of his great big mess of a life fulfilling that mission.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](http://gigi-gigi.tumblr.com/).


End file.
